


Inversion

by Callie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, magic water, s04e11 The Depths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/pseuds/Callie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wants more than Magnus can give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inversion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karlamartinova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karlamartinova/gifts).



> for karlamartinova, whose review of "The Depths" on LJ inspired me to write this for her because she loved the episode as much as I did.

They're headed out on a retrieval when Will hears the alarm. It's a grating whine, a special alarm that Henry set up to connect everyone's phones with the Sanctuary security systems after they nearly destroyed the place and each other because of the Pinipex, and it scares the crap out of Will because he's never actually heard it before. They immediately abandon the mission and race back to the van.

"Drive!" Henry says, but Will already has the van in gear while Henry's pulling up info on his tablet. "There's been an explosion--dude! Keep your eyes on the road!--and I'm trying to get a hold of the Doc right now. But she's not answering--hey, man! I said keep your eyes on the road! I got this!" It's a little hard to concentrate on driving while Henry's over there _not getting in touch with Magnus_ , but somehow he manages to scrape out of two near-misses and blast through a red light before he slams the car into the second loading dock.

Thanks to Henry's alarm data from the tablet they know where to go before they're even inside, though the acrid smells of scorched metal and charred plastic that greet them at the door would have clued them in soon enough that whatever happened, happened in her main lab. Magnus isn't answering her phone or Will calling for her and he fears the worst and that petrifying fear makes him snap at Henry when he starts to explain what he thinks caused the accident. "I don't _care_ ," he growls, "just _find Magnus_." Henry flinches and Will regrets it as soon as he's said it--Henry's just as worried about Magnus as he is--but there's something hot and sick that's twisted up in his stomach that won't let him take it back.

It takes them a little time to find her, because there's so much dust in the air still it's hard to see and that and the stink of scorched metal and spilled chemicals screws with Henry's nose and slows them down. They split up and take opposite sides of the gaping cavern that used to be Magnus's lab (and thank _God_ most of the abnormal enclosures around it were recently closed and relocated for maintenance) and Will's halfway around his side when Henry finds her.

"Doc? No... oh God, Will, get over here, she's here--"

Will's across the room faster than he thought humanly possible and when he sees her, the shock of what he sees makes him stagger like he's been slammed in the back. She's half-buried in rubble and what he can see of her is twisted into angles that he knows mean impossible trauma, even for her crazy blood chemistry and accelerated healing. There's no way she could have survived this, he knows, but he crawls over the debris to press his fingers to her neck because he _cannot_ believe, _will not_ believe that she's dead unless he's exhausted every possibility.

He searches for a pulse, and he waits.

Henry has scrambled up beside him and he's making the kind of broken, panicked noises that Will would probably be making right now if he wasn't so fucking _terrified_. "Is she--?" Henry asks, and Will's profoundly glad he doesn't actually finish that question because if he doesn't finish it, then Will doesn't have to answer it, and he _will not say it_.

There's the faintest flutter under his fingertips, and he's so afraid that he's just imagining it that he waits until he feels it again before acknowledging it. And when he feels it again, he knows exactly what has to be done. He knows this with a certainty that is so strong that he never entertains any other option but this one.

"Henry," he says. "Go to the infirmary. In the third locked cabinet there are some brown glass bottles. That's the only thing in that cabinet. I need one of those bottles." Henry's gone almost before Will's finished telling him what he needs, and Will turns back to Magnus, shifting over the rubble to move closer to her.

"Magnus? Hang in there. We'll get you out of there, you'll be fine. You just stay with me, okay?" He sounds _way_ more confident than he actually feels about this, like someone who actually knows exactly what he's doing (he doesn't), when inside he's scared shitless. Will's not expecting a response, so when he gets the faintest flutter of eyelashes, the tiniest whisper of a breath, he nearly screams-- _nearly_ , gulping it down with a hard swallow instead and trying to make sure he didn't just imagine it. "Magnus?"

"Will?"

"Shh, don't talk, just be still. Just hang in there. Henry's getting some of the water from the infirmary, he'll be right back." Magnus had used the rock she brought back from Bolivia to make more than enough water to wean him down from his addiction, and what was left over she'd locked away in case of emergency.

Magnus blinks, slowly, and turns her head slightly with what seems like a huge effort. "Don't waste it," she whispers, so low Will can barely hear it. "Not on me."

"Stop it," Will says. "Saving your life is hardly wasting it." He hears Henry's footsteps pounding down the hall and he's relieved, because if he has to argue with Magnus about _this, now_ , after everything else, he's going to snap.

"Don't."

Henry scrambles across the debris with the bottle and presses it into Will's hand. The sprint left him out of breath and panting, but he doesn't stop for long. "The systems are all going haywire," he gasps, gesturing back the way he came, "I gotta--" And then he's off again, to deal with this before something _else_ blows up.

Will uncorks the bottle. "Come on, Magnus," he says. "Time to drink the magic stuff." But Magnus presses her mouth shut and turns her head away as best she can and he spills a little, trying to get it to her mouth. "Damn it," he says, frustrated at his clumsiness and her stubbornness. "Come on! Work with me here! I know what this stuff does and it's not fun but I'm not going to let you die. Drink it."

Her mouth is pressed shut as tightly as she can make it--which isn't much, she doesn't have the energy, but the thought of forcing her is repulsive. They're wasting what little time she has left and it's pissing him off; more than that, the look in her eyes scares him, because he sees it for what it is, for what he's felt before, down in the cave--being so close to death that you just don't care anymore. It's easier to let go, when you're that close, than to fight your way back. And knowing how close she is to that is _unacceptable_ \--because this is Helen Magnus and she would have to be closer to the edge than anyone else to give up like this. "Don't fight me, Magnus," he begs. "You can't die on me. I'm not gonna let you. Because there are too many people that love you and need you and this is not how it's supposed to end and you know it."

Magnus closes her eyes and he's so afraid he's waited too long that he doesn't even think about the consequences; he presses her mouth open and dribbles the water in a little at a time until she takes a great, heaving breath and coughs and sputters her way back to life. He knows that feeling, too, the feeling of your life fading and flickering away, dwindling to nothing, and then suddenly coming back in a tremendous rush of color and light and warmth that's a high unlike any other. "Will?"

"Hold on," he says, and puts the bottle aside so he can start digging her out. "Just rest a minute, don't push it."

She closes her eyes again and breathes deep, and it's scary how he can almost watch the color come back into her cheeks, turning them from a deathly ashen pale to a faint pink. One of the smaller scratches on her face disappears, and when Will feels for her pulse this time it's strong, slow, and steady. He keeps pushing away the debris and after a few minutes she's feeling strong enough to try to sit up. Will doesn't want her to push it yet.

"I didn't give you a lot," he says, pushing at the rocks. "Just enough to bring you back. Take it easy, okay? I got this." She glances at the bottle and looks away again, and when Will has dug her out enough she lets him help her sit up. "You okay?" he asks.

"For the moment," Magnus replies. She takes stock of her injuries, checking her pulse, gingerly moving her arms and legs and testing herself. "Anything broken seems to have mended."

"For the moment," he reminds her. "It's only a temporary fix. You need real medical attention."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence in which Will's pretty sure they're both thinking the same thing about her condition, and then his radio squeaks and squawks and he pulls it free. "Will, it's Henry, come in."

"I'm here, Henry."

"How's the Doc?"

Will holds the radio out to Magnus so she can tell him herself. "I'm all right for now, Henry," she tells him, which provokes a whoop of joy from the other end that makes the radio squeak and squelch and Magnus smile faintly.

"Oh, man, it's good to hear your voice, Doc! I thought--oh, man, I mean, yeah. Whew." He laughs in relief again and Will wants to do the same, except that he sees Magnus take another tiny sip from the bottle and it worries him.

He takes the radio back. "What's your situation?" he asks.

"Better," Henry says cheerfully. "I have everything under control up here, mostly and I don't think we're in for any more surprises. I should have everything totally secure again in about ten minutes."

"Good, Henry, thanks. We're going up to the infirmary in a little bit. Let me know when you have everything locked up again. Get in touch with New York and have them send out their best doctor right away."

Henry signs off with another laugh and Will puts the radio away. Magnus has leaned back against the rocks with her eyes closed and he thinks it's better if they get moving sooner rather than later because the water is just a stopgap measure and she needs real medical treatment. He doesn't want her to end up like him.

*****

Magnus delays getting to the infirmary. She wants to check on the abnormals housed near her lab, treat their injuries, let Henry give her a report on the cause of the explosion. One after another, she checks on the abnormals and assures them that everything is fine and no one was hurt, and every so often she stops to take a sip of water before moving on to the next enclosure.

"Come on, Magnus," Will says. "I can handle this."

She takes a little sip of the water and shakes her head. "I'm quite all right, Will," she says confidently-- _too_ confidently, Will thinks. He still remembers exactly how it feels to be on that water high, to feel invincible and unstoppable and capable of absolutely anything. "These residents are in my care and I owe it to them to be certain they're all right."

Will makes an impatient gesture between them. "Partners, remember?" he says. Not that she ever actually agreed to him being her partner--she still hasn't let him in on whatever she's been hiding since she got back--but he's made it clear that's how he intends to operate from here on out.

"Yes, of course," she says. "But--and this isn't a slight to your medical knowledge, and please don't take it as such, but this is my area of expertise and I would rather our residents get the best possible care." They've gone into Sally's habitat, and Magnus kneels at the edge of the pool to reach into the water and touch the mermaid's hand to communicate with her and make sure she's not hurt. When she moves on to the next enclosure, Will follows along behind her.

"You're going to crash soon," he says.

"I'm well aware of it," she replies, and if it sounds snappish, Will tries to remind himself that it's the water talking, not her. He knows that feeling, too.

It doesn't make him any less insistent, even if he's trying to hold down his own temper. "You need to get some rest."

She turns on him angrily, her mouth pressed into a tight line. "Would you please stop hovering? I'm far more versed in my physiology than you are and I'm perfectly capable of determining when I've had enough. I don't need a babysitter or a nursemaid." She stalks off, bottle in hand, and it takes everything Will has in him not to shout something at her back; it won't help, so he grits his teeth and follows her so he can be there for the inevitable.

*****

By the time Magnus finishes her inspection of the area near her lab and checked all the Abnormals that might have been affected by the explosion, the bottle is two-thirds empty and Will is twitchy, jumping at any little sign that she's hitting the downside. She hasn't done anything stupid like drink the whole bottle at once--he's been watching her like a hawk, just in case--but even though she's been taking it in little sips here and there, it's cumulative, and it's not going to last forever. Will knows that, and he knows _she_ knows it, and the fact that she's ignoring it is pissing him off.

She finishes her examination of a three-day-old litter of Siberian snow-cats (completely unharmed, just as Will was sure they'd be) and leaves the enclosure, shutting the door behind her. The action takes a little longer than Will expects and he watches her carefully.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't say 'I told you so'," she says, leaning back against the doorframe. The color is fading from her cheeks and she looks tired.

"Wasn't planning on it," he says, even though it's tempting him, right there on the tip of his tongue. It's not like they don't know how this stuff works now, and Will's kicking himself for giving it to her even though he doesn't know what else he could have done to save her. He waits, and when she doesn't immediately jump in, he adds, "I know you're tired of hearing this, Magnus, but you really need to get to the infirmary. You know how this stuff saps the body when it wears off, and I really don't think you need any more of it."

This time she doesn't argue with him. Magnus just nods, and when she wavers as she straightens from leaning on the doorframe, he slides his arm around her waist without asking and lets her lean on him.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"You're welcome," he answers.

*****

Will's sitting by her bed in the infirmary when she wakes. "Hey," he says, tossing aside the book he's been looking at but not really reading.

"Hello," she says. Her voice is a little dry and raspy, so Will gets her a little cup of water (just water, not the magic kind) from the pitcher on the table beside the bed. There's a little plastic straw that he bends for her and she carefully sits up so she can drink it.

"You want some tea or something?" he asks.

She shakes her head a little. "No, this is enough. Thank you." She sips a little more and puts the cup aside. "How is the cleanup?"

"Mostly done," he says. "The Big Guy got back yesterday, he helped a lot. The auto-assist is a wreck, though. Henry's still working on it."

'I'm sure he'll do an admirable job."

"Yeah, he always does." Will fiddles with the arm of the chair before he asks, "How do you feel?"

"Better," she says. "Tired, but I expect it's due to the drain on my body's reserves. Since I received proper treatment more promptly than you did, I expect my recovery will be much quicker than yours was."

Will just nods. He's glad to hear she's feeling better, but there's something he wants to say to her. "Listen, Magnus," he says. "I know you're really used to getting your own way, and you're not really a fan of doing things by committee. But if we're going to keep working together, you have to start listening to me sometimes. I know you think you were doing the right thing by pushing on and trying to make sure everybody was okay, but Magnus--you pushed yourself so hard, you were out for a couple of days. And you made it through, but.."

He doesn't remind her that she still hasn't told him about her plan, or about whatever her secret is that she's been hiding ever since she got back. And if she doesn't tell him, and something happens to her--just the thought of it gives him a cold, unpleasant chill--how in the hell is he supposed to pick up and carry on her work?

Not to mention how he's supposed to pick up and carry on, period, but he doesn't want to think about that. It's better to think about the work, and leave his personal feelings out of it.

Even though he hasn't spelled it out for her, he knows she gets his meaning; she looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, and he thinks she looks a little sorry. Not enough to tell him what she's keeping to herself, though, he guesses, and when she speaks again she just confirms what he's thinking. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you, Will," she says. "On that, you'll just have to trust me until the timing is right. But you're right in that this could have been worse, and it was irresponsible of me to push so hard and depend on the water when we've seen what it can do."

"I don't want to lose you," he says quietly. He doesn't plan to say it, but now it's out there and he can't take it back.

Magnus doesn't seem disturbed by it, though her expression softens a little. "I don't intend for that to happen anytime soon," she replies, with the faintest hint of a smile.

"There are a lot of things we don't intend," he says. "But they happen."

"Yes, they do." She waits a moment, a little awkward pause, and then continues, "I will try to be a bit more cognizant of the effects of my actions on others. On you, in particular," she adds, with a little emphasis.

It's not what he really wants, which is for her to just _tell him what she's up to_ , but it's something, and it's good in a different way. He'll take it, for now. "Thanks," he says.

"I'll be spectacularly awful at it, I'm certain," she says.

"As bad as I am at holding my temper?" As apologies go, it's maybe not the best, but he's trying to keep things light.

She actually laughs softly, something he hasn't seen in a while. "Not quite so awful, I hope," she says, gently teasing, and he feels a little bit of the old ease come back between them. Not as much as before, but it's familiar, and good.

Will's phone beeps and he pulls it from his pocket to look; it's a text from Henry. He slips it back into his pocket and looks at Magnus. "Gotta go," he says. "Henry needs a hand with something. It's not an emergency," he adds, before she can ask. "Nothing to worry about."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands," she says lightly.

"I'll manage." Will stands to leave, but he doesn't immediately go. He stands by her bed for a minute, thinking about the things he wishes he could say to her and the things he wishes she'd say to him, but he knows for now they won't be said. They are conversations for other times and places, if at all. But he feels something's still missing, something he can't quite pin down. Magnus seems to feel it too, from the way she's looking at him. He doesn't know how to describe the expression he sees in her eyes, but it's there and he feels like it's a mirror of his own indescribable feelings.

On impulse, he reaches out to touch her hair. It's what he means to do, anyway, but when he does she turns her face into his touch just a little and his fingers brush her cheek instead. She closes her eyes and he curls his fingers against her cheek and he _wishes_ for so many things that can't happen until she stops holding out on him.

It doesn't mean he can't want them, though.

He lets his hand fall away and tries a smile. "Henry's waiting," he says. "Don't push yourself, okay?"

"I'll try," she says.

He's never wished things could be different as much as he does now.


End file.
